Our smoke was all over the room
Oh you said it was killing you
But we were killing the seconds
Lying on your mom's carpet.
Oh, my time killer
Don't rush it
Running towards the minutes
Scaring the hours.
No need of caffeine
You had the adrenaline in your blood
You were in a hurry.
Now my feet don't touch the ground
They touch your feet
No way down, do you feel me?
My flesh burns,
Irritated by the rough carpet
I kick and scream
But they won't let go
Holding me down
My legs are raw
No one can hear me
Down in this old
stale ***** drenched room
Cutting my hair
With a thin blade
The handle thick
Sending blows to my head
What have I done
To deserve this?
They won't let go
In a scratchy carpet
Into my ribs
Mix with blood
What have I done
To deserve this?
Cool cool floor
Of smooth hard tile
Barefeet slapping in
Then onto carpet
Just observing the almost silent moments of someone stepping across a tile floor and then onto the carpet. Mostly mundane... definitely not something ever thought of as magical, this is something going on all over all the time. Sometimes things like that blow my mind.
Roll out the white carpet
Pour me some deep pile bubbly
Love to just look at you beneath the bright baby blue haze
Strut on you like big sparkly sugar stars in glassy rock candy slippers
Feel your g-glamour under foot
Stretched out for a warm frosty arrival
Check it out, La La
Everyone immersed in the fantasy for one cool coral minute
Everyone gawking at the dream wave we’re riding
Snap, snap, snap it all up
By invitation only
Swim with you
Splash in you
Bask in you
© 2019 MJL
You watch as the blood from my wrist trickles onto your carpet.
Paying no mind until it starts to stain
"I'm sorry; please help me"
You roll your eyes and usher me out
of your comforting, inviting home
into the cold, desolate outside.
Crimson tears form in my eyes
raising my voice,
"I need your help!"
Instead, you give me an ignorant smile
before you slam the door.
An incomprehensible scream for acknowledgement exits my body
Peering through the window,
I see you cover my bloodstain with a rug.
You would rather act as if it never existed
than try to stop the blood or simply clean the stain.
I'm now outside;
being left to rot in the earth
So instead I will stain your flower bed.
Here's the meaning I got from my poem. From personal experience, people to like to act like there's a problem with your depression or suicidal tendencies until it bleeds into their lives. Then, they act still barely acknowledge the problem and try to erase from their lives. They don't try to help us when we need it more than ever. It's about what we really need. We need someone to acknowledge that we have a problem and make strides to help that problem instead of acting as if nothing happened. The poem is saying that it's better for people to help those in pain than to be ignorant. If you don't, then it just ends up causing the stain to get bigger and more public.
The carpeted bluebells
under the woodland canopy
swaying in ecstasy
to the hypnotic tunes of the morning breeze
to blend with them
to create a new shade of Spring.
Am I not privileged?
Last week, if I were flooring, I would be carpet.
Like in the way of,
how easy it is to get stained.
how hard it is to clean once it is.
how it just never seems to quite "fit" with the rest of the interior,
"especially not in this house".
But mainly it's in the way of how it is walked on.
Their feet drag through it,
causing the slow damage,
with little care for something that requires such high of maintenance.
Depression is like a carpet.
I know why people rip it up now.
I envy those who can.
Pigeons in a tree
Lots of snowflakes falling down
A carpet is laid
Inspired :) looking out kitchen window and saw pigeons in tree whilst it snowing x